Chapter 6: Guilt
Edoras, Rohan
Third Age 3021, February
-Rachel-
"My lady, you did not have to summon me here," Helisa said, running a nervous hand up and down her arm.
"You saved Aaryn's life, Helisa," I praised. "I wanted to thank you."
The young girl looked surprised. "You—you're not going to punish me?"
"What?" I said, shocked. "Why would I punish you for that?"
"It's just…you always say never to attack recklessly. To hold ground when the situation is out of our control."
"Helisa, this wasn't some great battle. It's thanks to you that Aaryn is home with her mother right now. And I'm in your debt for saving her. It was my fault the Easterling got hold of her."
"How is Aaryn?"
"I haven't seen her yet. Wulfgard tells me she's shaken, but fine."
"And the Easterling?"
"He's in the dungeons."
"And he will be executed?"
I hesitated in answering. Yes, Helisa would make one hell of a Shieldmaiden someday. But for now, she was just a sixteen-year-old girl. But before I could answer, Dorwine beat me to it.
"He made to kill Rohan's Under-king and used a citizen as a hostage. Yes, child, he will die for this."
I could see Helisa struggle with this and it took her a minute to answer. "I would ask one thing, my lady," she muttered.
"Name it. Whatever it is, you deserve it."
"Could…could you spare the Easterling's life?"
Dorwine practically choked. "Helisa," I said, pulling her startled gaze from Dorwine's obnoxious coughing. "That's not my decision to make."
"But you are the Under-king," she said. "You make the call on his execution. You can spare his life."
"That man tried to kill the future Queen of Rohan and the Under-king, child. How can you ask to spare him?" Dorwine demanded.
"Surely he has learned his lesson? He won't be able to use a bow again after I shot his arm. And he didn't succeed."
"An attempt on royal life is a crime. Does that not mean anything to you, girl?"
"Dorwine," I said. "That's enough."
"No, my lady, it is not." He turned back to Helisa. "Perhaps if it had been Thèoden King's life, you would think differently? Lady Rachel is the acting ruler of this country and what little our King has left in family. Your services were commendable, but your request leaves me questioning your loyalty to the royal family."
"My lord," Helisa muttered. "Lady Rachel has done so much for me these last few months and I did not think it fair to ask for a reward when I was simply paying her back. But I don't like to see life thrown away, especially when the life is no longer a threat."
That seemed to soften the advisor's exterior a bit. "Be that as it may," he said, gently. "We have laws. And what the Easterling did makes his life forfeit. To spare his life would seem as if we do not take our laws seriously. If he is not executed, what is to stop others in his place? We cannot lax on this. Not when we're in the middle of war."
Slowly, she nodded and turned to me. "I understand. And I do not need a reward, my lady. If I could only continue with your tutelage?"
"Absolutely, Helisa," I said, smiling gently. "I'm just not sure how else to say thank you."
"I was honored to do it, my lady. There is no need to show your thanks other than simply saying it."
I smiled as I led this strange girl from the hall. It was amazing, the selflessness of the Rohirrim. And it always caught me off guard.
Executions were not fun. I mean, why would they be? Fingran knew I did not want this to happen. He was incredibly respectful of that fact, speaking to the people for me as the Easterling, Obarin, sat upon his knees, listening to Fingran's speech. It seemed moments like these did not take place inside the city walls. In fact, we had walked beyond the gates and now stood on a hill, overlooking those who had come. I didn't want to be there, but I felt like I had to be. This was my call, ending this man's life. Of course, there wasn't much choice, but there was a small one. If I chose to stop this now, it would stop, but at what cost? The trust I had worked so hard to gain from the advisors, the threat of someone coming to replace Obarin, or the lack of strength it would show on my part.
Obarin had been questioned by Wulfgard after me. His tactics were clearly more aggressive than mine. There were more important things to figure out than his name. Had he been sent to do this? Was there a reward waiting for him back in Rhûn if he were to succeed? Was what he said about Thèoden and Éomer true?
Obarin claimed to have acted of his own accord, betraying the rules of war. But he would not sway on what he said of Thèoden and Éomer. The last Obarin had heard, Thèoden was dead and Éomer was not far behind him. Wulfgard was not certain he had gotten the truth out of the man, however. If Thèoden and Éomer were in any peril, word would have reached Rohan by now.
And now, Obarin was to die.
"Rohirrim," Fingran called to the small crowd. "We all know why we are here today. An attack on the life of Rohan's Under-king was made two days ago in the market square. Our laws are clear and by decree of our Under-king, Lady Rachel, the sentence for this crime is death. Were Thèoden King here today, you can be rest assured his decree would be the same."
Snow drifted down onto the scene in thick bulbs. I could feel it crunch beneath my feet. Obarin shivered in his spot on the ground. His knees dug into the snow. The bit of his skin I could see under his beard and hair was turning a harsh red from the whip of the wind.
Wulfgard had insisted on performing the execution. He stepped forward, gripping his sword through the cold.
"If you have something to say, say it now," Fingran muttered to Obarin. The air, whipping over the hill was the only thing cutting the silence.
"Only one thing," the Easterling muttered. "I would have your Under-king know that I regret my actions. Not because I think what I did was wrong, but because I realize now that I would have taken the life of a good soul. A person who is not what the stories say. For how could a person feel anything more than hatred for the one who attempted to take their life? I did not expect your Under-king to show me kindness, but she has. And for that I am grateful and I go to Mandos's halls without fight or rebellion."
The wind pulled at the hood of my cloak, but I willed it to stay over my head and cover the royal circlet Fingran had forced me to wear. My eyes pricked with tears and my stomach churned with sickness at the vileness that was taking place before me. And I could do nothing to stop it.
Wulfgard's sword came down upon the neck of the Easterling assassin, whose cries of pain were deadened as the blood poured from his neck. With a second swing, his head fell from his shoulders, rolling onto the ground, his body quickly following. His shackles clanked as he fell to the ground, his blood staining the white of the snow.
I don't know how long I stood there, watching the blood drain from his severed neck. Nearly everyone had left when Fingran spoke again. "My lady, are you alright?"
I managed to tear my eyes away from Obarin's body. But the movement caused my stomach to churn ever more harshly and I bent over, vomiting into the snow.
I had killed men. Not many, but I had done it. And after nearly two years, the hauntings of the Black Breath had never left me. And because of that, neither would the faces of the men I had killed. Orcs were not Men. I didn't relish in killing, but their deaths were not equivalent. They were the embodiment of Evil that lingered from Sauron's wrath. Men were Men. I may have not swung the sword, but I may as well have. This was my kill. I had killed this man.
Was this why Éomer wanted me to stay behind? Because in Rhûn, it would have been my sword and hand to cut through a stranger's flesh? Or my arrow that few through the sky to end a life that was not mine to take? Every life I had ever taken was in defense of my own. My targets had weapons of their own and had willingly entered the fray. Obarin was shackled, defenseless, and beaten. And I had killed him.
Fingran knew better than to ask me if I was alright. He let me sit there and wallow as he should have. Wulfgard didn't do anything either. They let me sit there, between my sick and my victim, and I cried.
Someone showed up after who-knows-how-long. I didn't hear what he said, but Fingran walked over to me soon after their conversation.
"My lady, Ceorl has just arrived from Rhûn. He brings news from King Elessar and your lord husband."
Éomer. It was selfish of me to seek comfort from my husband when the dead man before me would never find comfort again. I didn't move.
"We will need to move his body," the advisor continued. "We can have Ceorl return it to his people so that he may have a burial in his homeland." He wanted me to move. He would never just tell me to stop. He wasn't Dorwine or Hemonbold. I felt his body bend down beside mine. His wrinkled hand, much warmer than my tear-soaked face, touched my cheek gently. "My lady, Rohan needs your attention."
He was right. And so I stood and walked like a zombie back to the hall I was currently ruling. I walked through the gates and through the town, people peering at me from behind the curtains of their homes.
The aura was just as bleak inside the Golden Hall. Dorwine and Hemonbold sat in chairs facing the fire. Ceorl sat in front of a bowl of soup, but he didn't eat it, he merely stirred the contents around with his spoon, his face uneasy.
Something was wrong.
I cleared my throat, and instantly the room was alive again. Ceorl jumped up from his seat and Dorwine and Hemonbold stood quickly, straitening their clothes.
"What happened?" I asked, my voice hoarse from the crying and the cold.
"My lady," Ceorl said, pulling letters from beneath his cloak. "I bring word from the King of Gondor and…your lord husband."
I reached out and grabbed them. Aragorn's letter was on top and I started shuffling through, looking for Éomer's, but Ceorl stopped me. "My lady, I must insist you read King Elessar's letter before any others."
I stopped shuffling. "What happened?" I asked again.
"It is all explained in King Elessar's letter—,"
"Ceorl, tell me what happened!" I yelled.
I didn't often raise my voice. Even Hemonbold looked a little scared. "My lady," Ceorl muttered, staring at his feet. "Thèoden King is dead."
Oooooh! Cliffhanger! Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Please Review!
